[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Astonishing Stories, October 1942.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
CHAPTER ONE
The Professor's Experiment
Professor Jameson had looked for a means of preserving his bodyforever—and he had found it. But it was not by the art of embalming,for, after all, the mummies of the Egyptians proved to be only horriblecaricatures of their former likeness, and even these in the passing ofuntold millions of years must have been destroyed by some planetarystress had the picks of archeologists never unearthed them. The logicof the professor was more or less axiomatic. He realized that he couldnever employ one system of atomic structure, like embalming fluid, topreserve another system of atomic structure, such as the human body,when all atomic structure is universally subject to change, whether itbe amazingly swift or infinitely protracted.
The problem absorbed much of his attention, and he considered variousways and means until one day the answer flashed upon him—leaving hismind a chaotic maelstrom of plans and possibilities. He would cast hisbody into the depths of space where it would remain unaffected andunchanged! Material of organic origin might exist indefinitely betweenworlds.
He built gradually from this theory, conceiving a space rocket for hiscosmic coffin, a rocket propelled from the Earth by powerful thrustsof radium repulsion. Next came his plan to make the rocket anothersatellite of the Earth somewhere between the Earth and the Moon. Theprofessor decided on sixty-five thousand miles from the earth, or alittle more than a quarter of the distance to the moon.
He set about his plans at once, and having experimented with radiumall his life, it did not take him long to construct a rocket capableof carrying his dead body into the depths of space. The rocket laypointed skyward at the foot of a leaning tower on the hill of theJameson estate, surrounded by four gleaming tracks and balanced by fourstabilizer fins. Everything was complete, and the aged professor knewthat he had not long to live.
He died on a bleak December morning, swirling snowflakes blanketing theearth which was to be cheated so dramatically of his dead body.
The professor had retained no confidant, and no one knew why theleaning tower projected from the center of the professor's laboratory,nor could they have guessed that the rocket lay inside, ready for itscelestial journey.
The professor's nephew, Douglas Jameson, found himself sworn tosecrecy in the instructions left him by his dead uncle. An immediatefuneral service, according to those instructions, must follow hisdeath. Relatives believed him to be in his dotage. Only nephew Douglasrealized the significance of this quick funeral and removal to thevault.
Through the blanket of snow which had fallen that morning, DouglasJameson stole quietly to the cemetery, unlocked the vault and removedthe body of the professor. For a venture so colossal and unprecedented,the professor's corpse was given but small consideration. His nephewcarried him from the cemetery to the rocket in a canvas sack—yet suchhad been the professor's instructions, obeyed to the letter by anastonished and dutiful nephew.
Douglas Jameson entered the leaning tower and found the rocket setfirmly on its supports, its bullet nose pointing up the circular centerof the shaft. Cylindrical, and tapering at its base, the rocket wasfifteen feet long and five feet in diameter.
Opening a doorway in the hull, he peered inside at the luxuriousupholstering, his ha